Strange Salvation

In a cave, alone and injured by living smoke, he crouched wearily against the sandstone wall.

Waiting for the end.

There was no one left he cared for. No one left who cared for him. The living smoke had spared none.

Yakeb did not slump or relax as he crouched there. He couldn’t. He needed to stay alert for the tell-tale strands of wispiness that preceded the smoke. The wisps couldn’t hurt you, but you didn’t want to get caught by the smoke. The wisps told the smoke where to go. And the thick, choking smoke would suck the moisture from his breath and fill his lungs with the heavy weight of itself until he could no longer absorb life-giving oxygen.

Yakeb had never quite figured out where the living smoke had come from. Some said it had seeped up from the ground. Some said it had been first created in a sawmill that freed it from exotic woods or a facility that specialized in air-borne diseases and genetic mutations. Some said a crazy scientist had dreamed of being able to control the smoke that killed people in fires by inventing a partially sentient form of smoke that could enter burning buildings and gather all other forms of smoke and mist to itself, thereby giving people precious minutes of life until the firefighters could get them out. This “brilliant” scientist had wanted to save lives but instead had doomed humankind to a life of hiding and a greater fear of smoke than ever before in history. He was sure the truth was somewhere between the rumors, because it couldn’t be that last theory…it just couldn’t be.

Gazing towards the mouth of the cave, waiting for the mists, Yakeb breathed deeply and slowly. He was far enough back in the depths of the stone cavern that he felt he wouldn’t be immediately visible to the living smoke. Not that it could literally see him, but it seemed to respond to certain heat signatures and movement. Yakeb hoped that since the temperature within the cave was around the same temperature as his body heat, the smoke wouldn’t sense him.

As the minutes passed and turned towards the hour mark, Yakeb was about to relax, but tightened his flagging muscles as he saw that his theory was about to be tested. In barely visible lines, mist had begun to creep over one edge of the cave opening. It was mid-day, which told him it wasn’t normal mist, as it didn’t move along the ground or rise from it. It crawled in barely seeable sinuous lines across the right-hand wall of the cave, at the height of a six-year-old child. It came seeking him. Yakeb tried to shallow out his breathing so it was barely discernible and watched in growing horror as the tendrils drew closer.

They reached his shoulders and played on their tops, then moved downward across his chest and back. He watched out of the corner of his eyes as some of the mist crept towards his neck. He was covered from head to toe with clothes and scarves, and goggles covered his eyes, but if there was enough of an opening to reach his skin, the mist would find it.

He knew what came next...as his eyes darted from his shoulder to the cave mouth he could see the edges of the living smoke starting to billow just within sight outside the same edge the mist had come from.

He knew that living, smothering death would tumble towards him in an instant, and despair threatened to choke him instead. He would suffocate, gasping on fumes, just like the rest of his dear ones.

As the mist kept creeping over his clothing and the smoke outside seemed to fill the cave opening, Yakeb fought to keep his breathing barely detectable and his muscles locked into place. All at once, the smoke outside seemed to pause in it’s billowing as he felt a brush of something under the collar of his shirt. No! The seconds froze as the very air waited and the hairs on his neck tickled their alarm. He was done. There was nowhere to run in this cave… no other openings. He willed the mist to retreat. He willed his hair to lie down. He willed his heart to stop beating. Anything to make that smoke keep moving past this crack in the wall!

The fingers of mist caressed his skin as it slowly crept down his chest towards his heart, but then…it seemed to pause. He felt it circle a spot just below his collarbone as if it was feeling something strange. It grew colder, felt sharper and then seemed to spring away. It retreated so quickly it was almost as if sunlight had struck and evaporated it all in an instant! Yakeb was stunned! That hadn’t happened last time. The Living Smoke had struck viciously then, lashing out at tiny amounts of his exposed skin as he desperately ran! But now it…ran? Why?

He clumsily got to his feet, groaning as his cramped muscles protested the movement, and stumbled towards the cave mouth. He had to know if it was out there waiting or if it was truly gone. There! Heading south, away from him, he spied the cloud of smoke streaming along a few feet off the ground. It had left him alone!

Fumbling to remove his leather gloves, Yakeb yanked them off and scrabbled at his collar, searching for the spot the mist had circled. He couldn’t believe it as his fingertips touched the edges of the heart-shaped locket he wore underneath his clothing. It made no sense! Why would it stop at this?

Then he remembered something strange his scientist sister had said to him three years earlier as she gave her locket to him, “Yakeb, always wear this locket. Your life will depend on it.”

And he knew.